Coohills occupies a far corner of LoDo. Take a dozen strides off its patio, and you’ll be standing in Cherry Creek, not far from where it empties into the South Platte River.

The restaurant opened to much buzz in late 2011. It inhabits a sleek, sprawling space at 1400 Wewatta St., long something of a forgotten byway until developers got busy beyond Union Station. Still, even veteran downtown denizens will feel like they’re entering new territory when they visit Coohills.

It’s worth the trip.

Coohills has been touted as a French restaurant. It emphatically is not. Despite a few forays into French cooking technique — brandades, confits and the like — this is straight-up contemporary American fare. While informed by French cuisine, Coohills reflects what’s happening stateside, down to the use of Snake River Farms beef, Duroc pork and local produce.

Two recent visits found a bustling room staffed with friendly, knowledgeable waiters. The 20-seat bar was packed, thanks in part to well-crafted cocktails and a smart wine list, with vino available by the glass, half-glass and quartino, a large pour around 8 ounces. The bar is aided by the fact that the Pepsi Center sits just a few short blocks west. (It was a hockey night on one visit, and I must say, the Chicago Blackhawks’ jerseys might just be the handsomest ones in North American sports.)

Diners are a mix of cool kids from downtown, business people seeking post-cubicle resuscitation and food fans working their way through their culinary to-do checklists.

The dining room is expansive, with the far wall a mass of windows that look out on two vintage railroad bridges that span Cherry Creek at Wewatta and Wynkoop streets.

To the food.

Small plates prompted mixed reactions.

An amuse-bouche — OK, French term — of tuna tartare came in thumb-sized mounds, the plate slicked with a spicy orange sauce. The fish was packed with minced onion and chile. I liked the texture and forward flavors. My companion, not so much. Her verdict: “It’s way overseasoned. It could be anything.”

Butternut-squash agnolotti ($16) looked like a trio of monks sitting back-to-back, the squash filling wrapped in pasta cowls. The chervil-topped agnolotti sat atop a crisp root-vegetable cake. The separate parts were tasty, but the squash was a tad overprocessed and it seemed like an abundance of starch for one appetizer.

Chicken soup ($8) was stellar, all apologies to Grandmom. It was studded with black-pepper spaetzle, slivered mushrooms and diced leeks. The flavors melded beautifully, yet retained their individual notes.

Salads were standouts.

Escarole with a Parmesan-crusted poached egg ($9) was a variation on a Caesar salad, down to the Dijon vinaigrette. Studded with diced pancetta and that gorgeous gold yolk, it would star at any brunch.

A pear-and-arugula salad ($9) was also a winner. The ripe fruit and spicy greens were paired with walnuts, fennel and blue cheese. Big flavors, but complementary ones.

Entrees seemed made for 20-something metabolisms. These are portions that can double as the next day’s lunch.

Tender braised beef shortribs ($26) were the size of Mike Tyson’s fists and fell apart like his early opponents. They arrived atop a turnip purée, swathed in a robust red-wine veal sauce and crisped sage leaves.

The winter veggie setup continued with a 10-ounce lamb porterhouse ($32), served with a carrot-parsnip purée and a roasted garlic jus.

Seafood fans are not ignored. Diver scallops ($23) come with a sweet-potato purée and prosciutto, while the salmon ($24) features shrimp-and-salmon ravioli and a spinach-champagne sauce.

Desserts are a mix of the decadent (chocolate-hazelnut mousse cake) and the semi-virtuous. A roasted pear tart ($8) sat atop shortbread, vanilla butter and a luscious cherry ragout. Ask for two forks.

Quick aside on the bread: It was a winner, arrayed on a wooden plank with the individual knobs of dough forming a single braid. It came with a slab of butter sprinkled with sea salt. Unaccountably, the butter tasted as if it was daubed with truffle oil, that most overused of ingredients. Enough with that.

Coohills feels like a work in progress. The service is earnest but is still learning about pace and smoothness. The kitchen strives for good things and feels like it is moving toward consistency.

Restaurant critic William Porter is a feature writer at The Denver Post, where he covers food, culture and people. He joined the news outlet in 1997. Before that, he spent 14 years covering politics and popular culture at The Phoenix Gazette and Arizona Republic. He is a native of North Carolina.